reviewSeven circles of
spirituality
Tareeqat: 7
Elements of Living Sufism in Pakistan
By Dr Kamran Ahmad
Publisher: Mehergarh Publications
Price: Rs 350
The book explains the rationale of South Asian Sufism and why people followed
the saints
By Azmat Abbas
As the focus increased on Muslim world following the 9/11 attacks in the USA,
one witnessed an array of researches on Islam and Islamic traditions. Though
most of the work focused on trends of militancy amongst various Muslim
groups, some did highlight the peace loving and tolerant traditions of
Sufism.

Glitterati
among
WritersA last minute drop-out and the experience of a
lifetime at the Man Asian Literary awards ceremony
By Ammara Ahmad
On March 15, I received a call from a relative whose esteemed guest had
dropped out of a book launch and that I could go in the guest’s place.
Yours truly, who is as proud a bibliophile as any, received enormous joy by
this rather curious and unexpected last-minute invitation.

The big pictureStephen Cohen invited a group of experts to a workshop in Italy to
predict about the future of Pakistan by touching all issues.
The result is a fascinating collection of articles
By Ismail Khan
When someone in Pakistan predicts about the country, he or she mostly ends up
hurling abuses against those who sit at the top. Should the top few be
publicly hanged, the country will be on its road to glory — so goes the
cry.

The book
explains the rationale of South Asian Sufism and why people followed the
saints

By Azmat Abbas

As the focus increased on
Muslim world following the 9/11 attacks in the USA, one witnessed an array of
researches on Islam and Islamic traditions. Though most of the work focused
on trends of militancy amongst various Muslim groups, some did highlight the
peace loving and tolerant traditions of Sufism.

Tareeqat: 7 Elements of
Living Sufism in Pakistan by Kamran Ahmad is one such attempt, reminding
people of Pakistan that they have powerful and historically active spiritual
roots which form part of their daily lives and are deeper than anything the
proponents of militancy try to push on us.

Through this work, Ahmad
makes no rational argument for those who want to understand religion. It is
also interesting to note that there is no textual reference to what others
have written about religion or spirituality. He makes a note to the readers
that this manuscript is not for researchers and goes on to say that this work
is based on direct experiences with spiritual people and practices in various
parts of the world.

Kamran Ahmad has a PhD in
South Asian Spirituality from the US and has taught religion and psychology
at various universities in the US and Pakistan.

He is also the author of
Roots of Religious Intolerance in Pakistan and India.

The author notes that once
Pakistan was known to the world as the land of the Sufis — and the Islam
professed by Sufis stood out for its peaceful and tolerant nature. Things,
however, have gone bad over the past few years and now the people of Pakistan
are being bombard with different religious groups from all directions,
pushing them to re-learn the religion. These groups, Ahmad writes; “push
their messages aggressively. Any opposition to their messages is also dealt
with aggressively and sometimes, even violently. Their versions of Islam are
dry, rigid and intolerant.”

These newly-born religious
groups, Ahmad notes, need to understand that we have powerful spiritual roots
in the form of Sufism which run through our souls. Sufism, he writes, has
been lived and experienced as a living force in the daily lives of the people
of the regions that formed part of Pakistan for centuries. Still, not much
has been written about it as frequently.

He writes that in the South
Asian region, there remains a strong feeling that matters of the spirit and
secrets of the heart are not to be talked, written or argued about. “They
are to be experienced and they are to be lived. And they are part of our
everyday life. We did not learn about them in our classrooms or madressahs,
or through books or television talk-shows. Spirituality has always been a
part of our everyday lives, showing up in our relationships, in our
friendships and in our celebrations,” he writes.

Ahmad stresses that a
majority of the people of Pakistan are peace-loving, tolerant and now tired
of picking up shattered bodies of loved ones. “They listen to militant
groups openly claiming responsibility for many bomb blasts. They wonder
‘whatever the justification, how can people do this in the name of
Islam?’ They wonder, ‘this is not what we learnt about our religion, when
growing up’ as they slowly wake up to the reality, that these `new`
versions of their religion are not only ruining the social fabric and the
reputation of the country but also dishonouring the name of Islam in the
world.”

The author takes us through
the seven elements of Sufism in Pakistan which form part of our daily life
and discusses each one of them in detail. He talks about Ishq, (matters of
the heart) Ishq-e-Haqqiqi, (spiritual love) Rawabit, (family and community
relationships) Tawakkul, (submission to the will of the God) Aks-i-muqaddasa,
(the sacred as reflected in names and forms) Rawadari, (pluralism and
respectful tolerance) Wahdat-ul-wajud, (sacredness of everyday life) and
Jamaliat, (beauty and creativity).

The author provides
practical guidance in how to incorporate these seven elements of spirituality
in our lives and to create a balanced existence.

Ahmad writes that the Sufis
who made this region their home did not write theological or philosophical
books. They did not try to convert people by giving religious sermons or
intellectual lectures. And yet thousands of people followed them and
converted to Islam. It was seeing Islam and Islamic spirituality in the lived
form that attracted people to it. He goes on to write that the Sufis in the
subcontinent did not try to outsmart or degrade scholars of other religions,
nor they give sermons of hate or violence like the ones we hear today, and
they never declared anyone a kafir. The author writes that most of the Sufis
did not even ask people to convert to Islam. “All they did was to live
simple lives, talking about spirituality and even more importantly, living it
in their lives. And that is what made Islam and Sufi spirituality attractive
to the ancestors of most of the Muslims who now inhabit Pakistan.”

The present threat to the
elements of living Sufism in Pakistan, the author notes, prompted him to
produce this work. “It is like water for the fish. And if there was not a
threat to these elements in our lives in these changing times, if we were not
beginning to lose them fast, one would have preferred to leave things unsaid.
For there is something beautiful about a life spiritually lived, without the
mindfulness of it being ‘spiritual’.”

The
book is available at Sanjh Publications, Mozang Road, Lahore

Glitterati
among
WritersA last minute drop-out and the experience of a
lifetime at the Man Asian Literary awards ceremony
By Ammara Ahmad

On March 15, I received a
call from a relative whose esteemed guest had dropped out of a book launch
and that I could go in the guest’s place. Yours truly, who is as proud a
bibliophile as any, received enormous joy by this rather curious and
unexpected last-minute invitation.

We reached Hong Kong’s
luxury hotel Conrad at 7.00pm where most attendees looked like caviar-eating
royals from Monaco. Soon after, I realised that what had been touted as a
book launch by my relative was in reality the Man Asian Literary Awards.

The select gathering of 40
odd people was animated and the real magnets were the seven nominated
authors. One of the judges of the prize was Razia Iqbal, a Pakistani born
abroad, who does the show Talking Books on BBC. She had a huge mauve gown on
with a pixie hair-cut and her heavy British accent lent a fresh appeal to her
nonchalant chatter. Another judge was a Korean-American Pulitzer nominee
Chang-Rae Lee.

Yet another celebrity
writer was on board: You might not recognise the name Vikas Swarup. But you
should know that the movie Slumdog Millionaire was based on his novel. He is
a young but white-haired career diplomat, presently a counsellor in Japan,
pleasantly greeting everyone along with his wife, though he was not very
amused by my enthusiastic salutations and handshake.

Before the prize was
announced, all the judges gave a speech and Razia Iqbal mentioned how
important fiction is to her since her early days.

All this glitterati seemed
so different from the act of writing itself — the solitary creative
adventures and dilemmas, lonely quests and anxieties one suffers and enjoys
in the life-long pursuit of that elusive masterpiece.

Chinese writer Yan Lianke
stood a few paces away from the flock of writers. He perhaps embodied
Communist China well.

The nominees were
introduced in the main room with the stage that had ‘Man Asian Literary
award’ inscribed in its backdrop. Each nominee was introduced and then
dinner was served. There were three Indian nominees — JahnaviBarua (a
pathologist with a son who has bid farewell to bacteria for books), Amitav
Ghosh and Rahul Bhattacharya. Moving beyond China and India, the other
writers were Jamil Ahmed from Pakistan, Banana Yoshimoto from Japan (who
bowed in a dignified and classical Japanese way each time her name was
announced) and Kyung-Sook Shin from South Korea.

Frankly, I had heard of
only some of their works earlier, but now I have a better idea of course and
plan to read them all.

The awards were to be
announced by the end of the evening.

We were seated to the left
of the small stage. Some of the award group’s staff-members were on the
table too. I was sitting next to Jamil Ahmed who was one of the nominees. A
civil servant by training, he served in Balochistan and mastered Pushto. His
Pushto proficiency sent him on a posting to Kabul and he was there when the
Soviets arrived. One day when he had tried his hand at haiku, his wife told
him it was rubbish and he should try something he knows about. This gave him
the idea for the Wandering Falcon, which draws largely from the Baloch lands
and tribes among whom he spent ages. There were now three writers from India,
and one from Pakistan. I had a secret hope that Ahmed would beat them all.

The moments shared with
Jamil Ahmed were of course special. He was around 80, and least bothered by
the glory the writers are offered these days. He was simply happy to be alive
— he wants to smoke everyday, read more and more although has no writing
plans in the near future. He has refused various literary junkets in India
and America because of visa hassles. Unfortunately, he turned down my frantic
requests for an interview so that he could spend a restful evening in Hong
Kong.

The first course of dinner
arrived soon, followed as always by the main course and a sumptuous dessert.

By the time I finished the
meal, the judges were on the stage expressing how much they loved the
nominated books. The prize was announced after much suspense. And it went to
Kyung-Sook Shin, the first woman to win this award, for her novel, Please
Look After Mom — a novel on motherhood with the background of the tragic
Korean War.

Dozens of cameras
simultaneously flashed to take her photo. Kyung-Sook Shin had brought her son
along, a little boy with long hair, playing around with the award and smiling
for pictures. In her acceptance speech, she thanked everyone and requested
more human rights for North Korean emigrants, many of whom are being “sent
back to their death.”

Everyone dispersed to take
photos, autographs and exchange their final few business cards.

At the end of the evening,
Jamil Ahmed, his family, Amitav Ghosh and I went to sit in the Garden Café
of Conrad Hotel. The café is located outside the hotel, where all the
shimmering skyscrapers of Hong Kong’s prestigious Admiralty area glared
back at us. Behind us were the big crane–like ships of the Wanchai port,
quietly docked for a night’s rest. The cool sea breeze and the scent of
whiskey from nearby tables, made the setting more charming. Ghosh (in his
lyrical Bengali English) and Ahmed started reminiscencing of Doon and St.
Colombia’s school, their earlier visits to India, Pakistan and New York.
Almost every Pakistani of any significance was mentioned. Everyone was
impressed by how much Ghosh knew about Pakistan, while my sole problem was to
cut him off and take a picture with me. This problem was not resolved till
the end of the evening. But I was not complaining.

May God bless that
honourable guest who dropped out at the eleventh hour!

The
big pictureStephen Cohen invited a group of experts to a workshop in Italy to predict
about the future of Pakistan by touching all issues.
The result is a fascinating collection of articlesBy Ismail Khan

When someone in Pakistan
predicts about the country, he or she mostly ends up hurling abuses against
those who sit at the top. Should the top few be publicly hanged, the country
will be on its road to glory — so goes the cry.

Despite the rise of dozens
of channels, no serious effort is done to fill this intellectual void in
Pakistan. Many prime time TV channels rather invite palmists and astrologers
to read zaichas of political leaders as to how the next year will go. The
viewer is double convinced: the future of Pakistan is tied to the fate of the
individual!

What no one tells is that
the country’s rulers are often mere pawns on a board of unsolved puzzles.
Why ignore the country’s civil-military imbalance, identity politics, etc.?

Serious observers won’t
do so. Brookings Scholar Stephen P. Cohen invited a group of experts to a
workshop in Italy to predict about the future of Pakistan by touching on all
the issues. The end result is motley of articles which are compiled in his
new book, The Future of Pakistan.

The book illuminates the
big ideas that can or cannot make Pakistan work. It presents the
comprehensive revelations or revulsion about Pakistan to the wide audience.
As fresh insight is offered at some places, many, many sections are restated
and repeated — and even asserted without proper evidence.

Brigadier Shaukat Qadir
states in the book that even though the government seems to be completing its
five-year term, “unrest in the populace is spreading, and it is impossible
to predict the outcome of even the mounting protests against electricity.”
The insinuation that the unrest is “spreading” and that it has the
potential of quitting the government are all debatable points in Pakistan.
Only Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s post-1977 example comes to mind when he was
chased out of office allegedly for spreading unrest. But isn’t that
passionately contested today?

Contributors to the book
are renowned experts, former policy makers and respected academics. Despite
their diverse backgrounds, most are experienced on Pakistan’s foreign
affairs.

Much of the future
predictions about Pakistan in the book, therefore, hinge on Pakistan’s
external relations. Some focus on how Pakistan’s relations with India will
go; others on China and the United States. Some even agree that an attack on
the U.S. soil emanating from Pakistan will worsen the already-deteriorated
relations between the two countries.

To some extent, the
external realm is rightly focused. Pakistan’s inability to acknowledge the
gravity of its internal problems comes out from its insecurity viz a viz
India. Pakistan has a reluctant track record on taking militants inside its
territory and considering them their strategic assets despite the assets’
scorched-earth policy.

The country is not only
beset with a weak political class but a civil-military imbalance which even
intrudes in the country’s foreign policy decision-making process. So much
institutional overlap is present in today’s Pakistan that when a politician
is held accountable about poor governance, his typical reply is that his
hands were tied.

How will the foreign policy
dimension get fixed then? It also needs to be borne in mind that military’s
security concerns on India cannot be blindly set aside.

Perhaps changes in the
internal sphere can push for fluctuations in the external realm.

One of the recent
significant changes, which may withhold past repetitions, is devolution of
power to the provinces. The passage of 18th Amendment and granting of NFC
awards to the provinces will crack the centralised structure of the state.

Once provinces start
internalising the recently-granted autonomy, state’s reliance on one
province will fade away. Once smaller provinces demand equitable distribution
of resources, the big province of Punjab will be forced to look for other
options — some of them even in the external realm.

The state may “muddle
through” for a while, but reversal has the danger of halting the journey.
If provincial autonomy is checked in at any stage, it will assert itself more
vigorously. If, however, the autonomy is absorbed, the state may be on its
way toward decentralisation of power.

The book misses an
elaborate chapter or section on this specific area, the devolution of power.
Even though Shuja Nawaz mentions it in relative detail, a thorough
contribution would have made a perfect addition to the book. In fact, the
most striking words to this end are that of Cohen, who as an editor only
wrote the introduction and conclusion of the book. He puts that “the
centrifugal forces in Pakistan are intensifying.”